Music in Clown Alley

The mad German philosopher Friedrich Nietzsche said “Without music, life would be a mistake.”  And with it, at least in clown alley, life was always noisy and off key.

Hurling back the years like a cape that gets in my way, I recall the acoustical eruptions of my brethren in buffoonery as earnest and upbeat, if not exactly classical. There is music in the soul of every clown, even if it’s expressed only with a kazoo. I myself studied the violin as a child, under the belief that I could eventually wring laughter out of it the way Jack Benny did on TV. But my aspirations did not match my discipline, I rarely practiced, and eventually my mother returned the instrument to Schmitt Music to save the fifteen dollar monthly rental fee.

By the time I reached clown alley in late 1971 my instrument of choice was the Irish tin whistle, on which I was wont to play ‘Yankee Doodle’ or ‘Pop Goes the Weasel’ with such panache that the other clowns begged me to take my talent to Carnegie Hall, or anyplace else far away from their aching eardrums.

During all my years with Ringling the holy grail of clown alley music was a center ring lampoon of Tchaikovsky’s ‘Swan Lake.’ Producing clown Mark Anthony made pink inner tube tutus for himself, Swede Johnson, Prince Paul, Dougie Ashton, and Lazlo Donnert. Band leader Bill Prynne rehearsed his brassy minions in a selection of waltzes, mazurkas and pas de deux from the celebrated ballet. The idea was to throw each other around the ring, bouncing on the inner tubes like rubber balls, and then have Dougie don a pair of foam rubber swan wings and be hoisted high up into the rigging where he would drop his tutu to reveal red and white striped jocky shorts.

But artistic differences prevented this wonderful gag from ever being performed in public. Even though it was rehearsed for several seasons. Specifically, Lazlo wanted to be the one to go up into the rigging for the blow off. But he weighed twice as much as Dougie and the roustabouts balked at trying to pull such a heavy load up so high. Or else the inner tubes developed slow leaks and had to be constantly patched, which was very time-consuming for Mark since nobody else would help him dunk the inner tubes in a tub of water to locate the pin prick holes. After a while Mark refused to do it all by himself, and the flaccid rubber tutus languished in the clown prop box, unloved and unused.

Spike the clown played the slide trombone, with a large boxing glove on the curve of the slide so he could deliver knockout blows with it during serenades in the ring.

Dougie Ashton was quite skilled on trumpet. He warmed up in clown alley with endless choruses of “When the Saints Go Marching In.”

Lazlo Donnert was a dab hand at the flugelhorn. He worshipped the classics, playing themes from Mozart’s horn concertos with a distant look in his eyes -- dreaming, no doubt, of his days at the Nagy Cirkusz in Budapest. His son Lotzi played the flute.

Rubber Neck (so called because of his marvelous double-take and fade away, which rivaled that of movie comic James Finlayson in numerous Laurel & Hardy films) picked up a banjo in a pawn shop and learned to strum a few wild chords on it. During come in he would sit on a ring curb and ‘play’ his banjo while yodeling like a Swiss banshee. The rest of us clowns would then bombard him with various objects, such as rubber chickens and beach balls, to encourage him to migrate backstage.

Because this was the 70's, over half of the First of Mays played rock guitar, or else did soulful renditions of 'Blowin in the Wind.' It got so bad that boss clown LeVoi Hipps finally banned all guitars from being stored in the clown prop boxes; if you wanted to show off your guitar work in the alley you'd have to lug a guitar case around all by yourself.

After hearing Lou Jacobs play the musical saw, I determined to become proficient on it myself. Lou was rather close mouthed about the whole subject when I asked for pointers; he prefered to be the only one under the big top to perform that particular musical specialty. But good ol’ Mark Anthony told me I could send away for a musical saw with lessons from the Mussehl & Westphal company out of East Troy, Wisconsin. I did so, and spent the next several months driving everyone crazy on the Iron Lung train car where my roomette was located by practicing day and night until I could manage a lilting rendition of ‘Aloha Oe. (The company is still doing a thriving business today selling musical saws and lesson books!)

The one song that is never played in clown alley, or anywhere else on the show, is John Phillips Sousa’s ‘Stars and Stripes Forever.’ This tune is reserved for emergencies only, when the building or tent has to be evacuated immediately. It was played during the Hartford Circus Fire disaster in 1944, when over 167 people died under the Ringling tent as it collapsed in flames. The tune is considered sinister and bad luck by all circus personnel.

Ringling expected a clown marching band from clown alley each season. The traditional song attempted was always ‘MacNamara’s Band.’ Prince Paul led our motley group, twirling an

outsized baton that was twice as big as he was. He was followed by the Little Guy, Steve Smith, on snare drum. Then came everyone else, tootling and banging on whatever was handy, including ocarinas, tambourines, and a large assortment of glockenspiels that had been ordered for a Spec production by the show but had been nixed at the last moment; the show was going to throw them away until boss clown LeVoi Hipps persuaded management to donate them to clown alley. Once I learned to play the musical saw, I always came up the rear of the processional; holding my saw and bow in one hand and a chair in the other -- I would sit and start to play, then notice with a start that the band had marched on, so hastily picking up my chair I would scamper after them. It was a mildly amusing sight gag.      

At the end of the season, to end the last show, the ringmaster would always announce: “Ladies and Gentlemen, we have come to our journey’s end for another season. We thank you all for your attendance this evening, and wish you godspeed back to your hearth and home. And may all your days be circus days!”

And with that, BIll Prynne would strike up ‘Auld Lang Syne.’

From the New York Times:  Mr. Trump, a profane, bombastic, thrice-married New Yorker, may not have been the candidate many religious conservatives prayed would win the White House. But the mutually beneficial arrangement he has nurtured with the Christian right is already starting to nudge the government in a more conservative direction.  

So narrow and strait is the way

To White House salvation today,

The humble and meek

Are finding it bleak --

Cuz charity just doesn’t pay.